The Emotional Quandary of Sheldon Cooper
by PlanetKitten
Summary: Sheldon is falling apart. Penny is on a never-ending downward spiral. The locus of Leonard's identity is external. Howard hates not having a doctorate. Raj can't stop drinking. Sometimes, it takes a drastic incident for things to change, and wounds to heal. S/P-centric, no character bashing, set somewhere in the middle of season 6.
1. Chapter 2

Leonard has wanted to quit physics for some time now.

He has always been little. It's a fact that he gets reminded of every time he stands in close proximity to Sheldon, every time the lanky physicist towers over him, jabbing at his whiteboard to point out how he has forgotten to substitute alpha there, or that there is a simple arithmetic error in the third line of his equation.

Being a genius – wunderkind – has always been Leonard's biggest strength and only source of confidence. His five feet four is shorter than most fourteen year old boys, but he has been able to console himself, knowing that if IQ was an asset, he'd be the tallest out of them all. He is used to being the brightest, wherever he goes - yet next to Sheldon Cooper, the brightest wunderkind out of them all, he finds himself grasping desperately at the very edges of Sheldon's genius, trying not to feel as if he is drowning in mediocrity.

Leonard knows that Sheldon is extraordinary, all his quirks and idiosyncrasies aside; and knowing that no amount of hard work will let him close the distance between them kills a little more of him inside every time he hears the word physics.

He hates that no amount of effort he puts in will give him even a shot at being the _best_ – just like everything else, he is at most, second-best.

This thought in mind, Leonard angrily jabs in a Babylon 5 disc into his laptop, covering his ears with headphones. Sheldon has made his dislike of the show very clear, and he does not want another strike: a remedial class with Sheldon is the last thing he wants.

Leonard Hofstadter, experimental physicist at Caltech is cracking, and no amount of Babylon 5 viewings or angry casual sex will be enough to piece him back together.

Penny has had a horrible day at the Cheesecake Factory, even more so than usual. Casual offences like butt pinching and perverse gazes boring down her ample cleavage have been ramped up to a whole new level and she finds herself close to breaking point. Her uniform has gravy stains on it and her hair is sweating and droopy, and all she really wants is a hot shower and a glass of wine or two.

But when she finds Kurt waiting for her next to her car, all casual and attractive like a twenty-first century Adonis, she lets herself be whisked off to his apartment for another night of brazen, drunken fun. She isn't sure why she lets him tug off her mustard skirt, or why she doesn't object to taking a shower together, but she does know that she doesn't want him to touch her hair and let it down.

"Pen, what's wrong? You're all tense – loosen up babe, daddy's got ya," Kurt quips, a corner of his lips raised in a self-assured smirk that has had girls hung up on it ever since he turned fourteen.

"Nothing, I've just had a really crappy day at work." She tries to sound upbeat, vivacious and it works.

"If you say so babe. Hey, your hair covers your boobs now, it's freaking hot, you look like that mermaid bitch from Sleeping Beauty or something." He grins lopsidedly, and she knows that he has paid her a compliment, however cheap it may be, so she smiles back and kisses him before her mind can catch up.

#

Sex with Kurt has always been fun for Penny; he is strong and big, and she can nestle upon him after climax and let herself be lured away by the steady thrum of his heartbeat. She thinks she likes him best like that, when he is silent and gently rocks her to sleep, just like how he does now. It's almost like they're back to being nineteen again, infatuated and young and excited to take on the world before them.

"Pen, you sleeping?"

She doesn't answer him, because she doesn't want to have to wake up and acknowledge that she isn't nineteen and dreaming of Hollywood, but twenty five and working at minimum wage in the Cheesecake Factory, trying to make ends meet so that she does not lose electricity again.

Penny can tell when Kurt is asleep, by the way his arms around her relax and fall loosely to his sides. She steals a glance at the bedside clock and groans softly when it reads an alarming 1:05 in the morning – she has a morning shift tomorrow, and she can't afford to miss any shifts they throw at her. The LED light blinks at her, electric blue and steady like Sheldon's eyes – _whoa, where did that come from? _

If Penny has to be honest with herself, she knows that the way Sheldon looked at her last night can't be written off as another quirk of his. She can recall how his eyes had burned into hers feverishly – the image of his baleful eyes, large and scared like a deer in the headlights has burned its way into her mind like smoldering ashes. Sheldon is an egotistical, proud super genius with megalomaniac tendencies – the guys always had said how he was one lab accident away from being a super villain –but Penny has never seen him genuinely scared, until last night.

_Scared of what – that I'd catch him bullshitting about his shirt? _It is neither a question nor a statement, but merely an exclamation of what may be indignation, impatience, exasperation or even a hint of concern. Almost instinctively, Penny knows that Sheldon was terrified when she asked about his shirt, and that he was lying when he had answered. She has no idea, no clue where to even start guessing about _why_, but she definitely knows for sure that there is something wrong with her Moon Pie.

The admission scares her. Sheldon Cooper is _never _scared – hell, she can't even be sure whether he has feelings or not. _Robots can't look that sad, _she thinks to herself – but even as she conjures up those words, she knows that she has always known he has feelings. His face when he had learned of his friends' deceit in the Arctic float to the forefront of her mind, and she cringes uncomfortably.

Cuddling with her ex-boyfriend in his apartment after mind blowing sex, Penny thinks about Sheldon, even as she drifts off to sleep.

Sheldon has always liked the squeak of whiteboard markers as they raced across boards to translate brilliance into figures and equations that echo his thoughts. He is aware that Leonard is watching Babylon 5 on his laptop on the couch, but every time he opens his mouth to chastise him for such poor taste, another extraordinary idea strikes his mind, which he scribbles on the board lest he miss even a fraction of it. _Ah, numbers, how dependable art thou_ – he allows himself a small chuckle at his whimsical words before concentrating on the numbers before him again.

He can feel a set of eyes boring into his back, and deduces that it must be Leonard's, seeing as they are the only inhabitants of the apartment at present. He considers engaging in small talk with the shorter man and attempt to explain some of the marvelous insights he has been blessed with that afternoon, but concludes that his productivity levels will decline if he does so, which would be simply unacceptable.

"Sheldon, what are you working on?" He suppresses a sigh, before answering crisply:

"I have deduced several different approaches to M-theory that hasn't occurred to anyone else before, which are looking promising. Of course, I must say I'm not surprised; very few people share my brilliance, and certainly none of them are alive right now except me."

"Really? What method did you use? Gablehouser might kiss you if you pull this one off too, right after your work with the god particle."

"Lorentz." And with that, Sheldon goes back to work, furiously scribbling away the fruits of his endeavors and entirely missing the half-admiring, half-resentful gaze Leonard directs at his back.

"It's unlike you to not launch into another huge rant about how great Lorentz is, you know," he starts.

"Well, as great as he may be, I am better."

Leonard struggles to reign himself in from throwing his laptop at the back of taller man's head, hopefully killing off a couple of IQ points. His arrogance is both stifling and well deserved; he knows that Sheldon may be one of the brightest men alive in their time, but it doesn't make him any less infuriating, especially in the face of his arrogance that knows no boundaries and restrictions.

"Douche," Leonard mutters to himself. Sometimes he really had to ask himself why he was still living with Sheldon. His belittling of others needled into his vulnerable side far more often that he admitted to himself, and it hurt like a _bitch_. Leonard clenches his teeth, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes roughly. _Asshole, dictator, egomaniac, dick_.

#

Lying like a vampire in a coffin in his bed, Sheldon clears his mind, before letting the memories flood back like wildfire and ring in his ears, making him wanting to clutch his head. Every single interaction he has had to suffer through repeat themselves somewhere within the vast cavern of his mind, all at once, and for a moment Sheldon is worried that it will sweep him under where he will drown.

"I am the master of my own body – and my mind – and memories – and I will not back down," he mutters his mantra. The Vulcans had the right idea, he thinks, but he thinks that the couple of additions he made have improved it even further.

"I am the master of my own – oh, good God, that incessant buzz of inane chatter –" He moans quietly.

It is a ritual that Sheldon follows every night, within the safe confinements of his room, when he allows all the conversations that he has had during the day to overflow inside his mind. Safely cocooned in his bed, he is able to lift the iron-clad emotional barrier he has on himself during the day, one that separates his logical and rational side from emotions, the pesky lot of them. Sheldon knows that he is not a robot – unfortunately – and this is a solution that seems to work most effectively. It is by no means perfect, if those occasional twinges of feelings – usually guilt, hurt and rarely joy – are anything to judge his success by; but it is the best make-shift solution that he can offer himself.

Concluding that nothing today has been uttered, save for inane chit chat that oozes of banality, Sheldon lets himself relax. It is a short-lived relief, however, as his mind, treacherously vigilant as ever, loops back to the same conundrum that he has been facing for the last twenty years.

"Self harm is a method of coping with stress, an outlet of negative emotions that brings temporary relief by distracting oneself from their problem through physical pain. It most commonly occurs to people who are suffering from depression or any other psychological problems, and usually happens in the form of incisions made on easily accessible places such as the wrist, arms or thighs."

A/N: Not very happy with how this chapter turned out, but it'll have to do for now. My exams finish in a week, so I'll go back and redo these chapters then. D: Hopefully. Thank you all for the reviews and follows - I was so, so, so very pleased to know that people didn't hate what I wrote. :)


	2. Chapter 3

"Self harm is a method of coping with stress, an outlet of negative emotions that brings temporary relief by distracting oneself from their problem through physical pain. It most commonly occurs to people who are suffering from depression or any other psychological problems, and usually happens in the form of incisions made on easily accessible places such as the wrist, arms or thighs."

It is a definition that he has compiled himself, pilfered from numerous sources online. He isn't sure whether he agrees with all of it, but as he fancies himself to be a creature of whimsy, he keeps them stored inside his mind anyway.

Sheldon can trace his memory back to the exact moment that he decided to seek release in a sharp razor his father used to keep inside the drawer in the bathroom, courtesy of his eidetic memory. He knows that he was nine years old when he had first read about self harm in a neuropsychology journal that detailed the psychology behind self-destructive behavior, just as he knows that exactly eleven days after his perusal of the journal, he stole George Sr.'s spare razor to trace out a thin line or two on his wrist. Sheldon can remember thinking that the cut reminded him of a leaf, with its bulging veins – likewise, he can also recall with total clarity how the pain was swift, stinging and beautifully liberating, _gratifying_ for a nine year old Texan child prodigy whose only companions were his mother, science and genius.

To be lonely and friendless is one thing; to be lonely, friendless and brilliant is something else altogether. Sheldon has always been the latter, and so he is very well aware of how loneliness seeps into oneself like smog or ink, crawling through veins and clogging up arteries until it surrounds the heart like a wall. Homo novus or not, Sheldon is not immune to feeling sad or hurt; so in response to the world that has thrown rocks at him, he has mastered the art of complete detachment from the world and replacing insights with analysis. He knows that suppressing feelings will only lead to disaster, so he gives himself regular releases with a razor with the perfectly rational argument that it is the only tradeoff for a life without pain and risk. Any inputs that may have hurt him is counteracted by his self-harm output, which lets the feelings out of him before it can reach his _heart_ – that is, if it still worked after so long – and poison it fatally.

It is a foolproof plan, he thinks, as he drifts off into another fitful slumber and disturbed REM cycles.

* BBT*

"God, I'm a failure," Penny croaks softly, burrowing deeper inside her covers. "Twenty five with a hemorrhoid commercial and a crappy Anne Frank play under my belt as a college dropout."

When Penny is down, like she is now, she turns to cheap vodka and sex for comfort. It ends up making her feel even worse after he – whoever he happens to be that night, it always changed – walks out and leaves her curled up in the bed; but the mechanical motions of sex, alcohol and drunken tears are familiar to her, and she doesn't want to venture out of it – ever.

She knows that her aversion to bursting out of her comfort zone is what keeps her rooted to the Cheesecake Factory after seven years of service. She is also aware that her lack of higher education and qualifications will ensure that she stays in a menial job for a long time yet. She can count the number of acting jigs she has had in the last seven years in California in one hand, and if she had to be entirely truthful with herself, Penny knows better than anyone else that an actress was a position of glamour and fame that she lapped up eagerly because it promised her love, rapt attention and a whirlwind life of passion and popularity.

_Love, passion, popularity, _she scoffs to herself. Here she is, barely keeping up with rent in a tiny, cramped one bedroom apartment without electricity because the bills are too much for her minimum wage paycheck. Penny has always been insightful, and she can see better than anyone else that she has no love, passion or popularity.

_At least I get lots of sex, _she thinks bitterly. What she does have is a pile of bills that need to be paid, a dead end career in a cheap fast food store and her abusive ex Kurt as a get-go friend with benefits.

When the statement: "I need to do something with my life," bursts out of her lips, it is a sudden, unexpected sentiment – but one that suddenly hopeful. _Hey, motivation, _she mutters, chuckling, as she crawls out of bed and fires up her laptop. She suddenly knows what she has to do.

"Pasadena City Community College…"

* BBT *

"Did you get the low sodium soy sauce from the Korean store?"

"Sorry, Sheldon, they ran out of the kind you wanted."

"That is unacceptable, but as I am an adaptable man who can see reason, I'll have to endure a soy sauce-less dinner for tonight and pray that my bowel movements don't suffer for my whimsy."

Sheldon ignores the exchange of incredulous looks from Howard and Raj as he settles back into his spot, eyes glued to The Avengers on the screen in front of him. Leonard stifles a growl.

"So, Sheldon, did you know that your girlfriend broke Penny's nose?"

"Yes, I am; what's the protocol in this situation? Do I try to excuse Amy's violent actions towards Penny, your ideal mate? Do I meekly apologise and offer to curb her violent tendencies? Do I blame Bernadette for aggravating her?" Sheldon shoots off rapidly, a spoonful of rice halfway towards his mouth.

"Hey, don't bring Bernie into this; she's not the one who whacked her own bestie with coins,"

"Bernadette was deliberately attempting to insult my work and myself by claiming that you are now a 'bigger deal' than me. Amy merely tried to defend my honour, and yours, Howard."

Howard mutes the television and whirls towards Sheldon. His nostrils flare as he spits out words like phlegm, coarse and hot inside his throat.

"How was trying to incapacitate my wife defending my honour?" He is quietly derisive.

"Bernadette insinuated that your presence offered a bigger contribution than mine to Caltech. She was embarrassing you! Must I go on? First of all, your lack of a doctorate suggests that you –"

"…I went to space, Sheldon, while you sat around in your office scribbling out odd equations that don't do anything except give anyone who looks at them a brain hemorrhage. When's the last time you made a noteworthy contribution to science?"

Raj looks alarmed, his gaze flitting between Sheldon and Howard, whose eyes are lit with a furious determination he has seen before; it is the look of an animal that is barring its teeth at its abusive owner after many years of remaining meek and impassive.

"I grow closer and closer to the Nobel prize every day. My latest work in M-Theory has proven to be especially exceptional, even for my standards. My whiteboards offer more to science than you have ever done, and ever will; really, Howard, the longer you persist in trying to inflate your achievements, the more humiliating it will be for you when they send the next lot of astronauts up into space. As for my 'odd equations', as much as I resent your words, only the greatest minds will be able to truly see their brilliance – and as it is clear that you are not one of them."

It is a lengthy vitriol, even for Sheldon. His blue eyes harden slightly as he articulates his rebuttal, and there is a defensive jutting of the chin as he defends his work. His knuckles are white from clutching the hem of his plaid pants – although it is nearly imperceptible, Sheldon is angry, and just a little scared.

"Do you get off on being such a mean jerk to everyone? Just because I don't have a doctorate doesn't mean I'm an idiot! And honestly, whoever assembled you messed up and shoved in an extra IQ chip instead of feelings. It's either that, or being an egomaniac douche gets your motor running because the only way you'll get a Nobel prize is if they give one out for being a huge dick."

Huffing, the engineer throws his order onto the table carelessly and walks out, slamming the door noisily behind him. The silence permeating the apartment is thick, poignant and heavier than anything else they have ever felt.

Raj is the first to speak, his voice trembling slightly as he locks in eye contact with the slightly red Sheldon.

"Dude, you went over the line. He's been bottling it up for years ever since he met you, and you pushed him until he exploded tonight."

"I was merely being truthful. If he wants to be mollycoddled, he shouldn't have attacked me so viciously."

"You give him shit every time for not being a doctor and constantly belittle his work. That was mild on Howard's part, and honestly, he was right in what he said. You are a huge jerk dude."

Raj is usually happily grinning and friendly, but his face is stony and cold tonight as he races after his best friend.

Leonard shifts uncomfortably as Sheldon stares vacantly at the newly slammed door. He agrees with what both Howard and Raj has said – a large part of him wants to nod vehemently and march after them, but he is uneasy with deserting Sheldon. Yet their squabble bounces off into different corners of his mind, pieces of their diatribe unwinding themselves inside him and taking hold of his mind like smoke. There is huge admiration towards Howard for finally speaking out against Sheldon and defending himself, and for lashing back at him for the first time, not bothering to restrain himself, not bothering to tell himself that it's only Sheldon – whose idiosyncrasies drive them all insane, whose routine exasperates them, whose brilliance threatens them into submission. Leonard unconsciously clenches his teeth – he has had enough of being treated like a moron and feeling horrible, unworthy.

"I think I should check up on Howard and Raj, see how they're doing, try to talk to them."

Sheldon doesn't respond, so he edges out of the apartment, heart thumping loudly. He has never allowed himself to think of how great a Sheldon-less night would feel, and the very possibility of it frightens him, but it is a kind of fear that makes him shiver with anticipation and exhilaration. He finally feels free, as if he has defended himself against a bully after years of being tormented mercilessly.

It does not occur to Leonard since when he has started to think of Sheldon as a bully. If he has to be honest with himself, he isn't sure whether he feels so victimized because he is jealous, or genuinely tortured by Sheldon.

- A/N: I posted the third chapter earlier, but deleted it in lieu of this one since major inspiration just hit me. I'm not strictly following the canon timeline, but last week's episode stayed with me for so long (NOT in a good way) that I had to put this part in. It's like the canon counterpart to the conflict that would have been in this story anyway.

I don't want to be one of those authors whose A/Ns go on for pages, but I feel like an apology is in order. This story is my very first attempt at a serious chapter fic, with a proper plot and character development. I'm much more accustomed to short stories and vignettes that don't span on for 2k+ words. I'm trying to learn how to manage a real plot and believable characters who experience conflict and different emotions (I usually write about insanity and passion, and nothing else) but it's turning out to be a lot more difficult than I expected. So, for that, I'm sorry for producing such an unpolished, rough story, especially with such delicate topics and trigger warnings. I apologise in advance especially if I butcher up the self harm-related things (not limited to what Sheldon is doing right now) :/


	3. Chapter 4

Sheldon regards the empty apartment with empty eyes. He can process the logistics of what has just transpired logically, but he is unaware as to how he should feel about it emotionally. Howard's injured look, coupled with Raj's indignant outburst is physical manifestations of emotional distress, from which he can infer that Howard is distressed from the contents of vitriol exchanged between them.

Sheldon tries to detach himself from the events and inspect it with a clinical point of view - Howard's raised voice, reddened face and flaring nostrils are telltale signs of anger, which could only have been evoked from their heated exchange as it was the only substantial conversation that had taken place that night. Furthermore, that Raj blamed Sheldon is a clue that Howard is upset because of Sheldon. He knows that emotional distress can negatively affect one's rationality, and that Raj's claim may have been exaggerated to cater to his much stronger bond with Howard. That being said, however, Sheldon can't forget the way Howard's eyes burned into his own, both cold and blazing hot.

He can't process what has just happened emotionally, though – he has no name for the sudden tightening of his chest that can't possibly be angina, and there seems to be a lump of _something_ lodged firmly in his throat that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Blood seems to move through his veins languidly like molten lava, and he really has no explanation as to why he suddenly feels like he's back at the Arctic: cold, freezing and disgustingly, undoubtedly alone, a solitary figure murky against the blindingly white landscape.

"Wolowitz expressed anger when I stated my opinions about his work; Raj and Leonard have also shown disdain at my commentary. That much is clear. Now, I do not understand why Howard would be angry at my person, unless it is to mask his shame at being openly acclaimed as inferior; however understandable that may be, that the rest of my friends took his side blatantly is puzzling."

Sheldon has always loved to talk, so that's what he does, even though there is no one to listen to him – he reminds himself that no one has ever been willing to listen to him anyway. He tries to ignore the rapidly rising throbbing in his heart and continues listing what he does know, if only to stay sane and make something of this calamity.

"Do I constantly belittle Wolowitz for his work? I resent that accusation: I see him as a very capable engineer whose skills are unparalleled to those in the same field. I merely see his work as being menial as and of a lesser quality than my own."

And Sheldon really does believe that – could not believe otherwise, not after all the zealous worshipping of physics he has done over the years, that nothing is equal to, or surpassing the field of physics when it comes to intellectual stimulation and value of work.

"Physics is the only constant in my life that has allowed me to overcome the derision and constant devaluing of myself by others; it gives me a purpose, a focal point from which everything else stems outwards. Engineering is not physics, and therefore insignificant, as is everything else."

His voice is steady – talking about physics always helps him to refocus, re-anchor himself to this plane of existence that can provide nothing else for him, to prevent his mind from over-reeling and descend into insanity, like so many other wunderkinds before him.

"Could it be that Wolowitz is resentful of my devotion to my work, or perhaps my intelligence?"

To his credit, Sheldon really does try to understand Howard. His mind is unable to compute Sheldon's reactions to the desertion of Raj and Leonard, or why he feels so empty after their spat, but he tries his hardest to comprehend why Howard is upset with him. The only topic that he avoids is the way Leonard walking out on him makes him feel: small, unwanted and betrayed.

*z*

Penny does not understand why the square root of negative two is not a valid, real answer for her equation, or how the quadratic formula that Mr. Dawson used to plug in the values spat out two "real solutions" for the problem lying on the sheet of paper on her desk. What she does know is that she isn't grasping the concepts in the class at all and that it is only her second day at Pasadena City Community College, trying to 'better herself' and her resume.

"Penny, how are you doing? Are you following the class? I know that it must've been quite a transition, after being out of high school for seven years. If you're struggling or having any trouble at all, don't hesitate to drop into my office or call me."

Mr. Dawson is in his early thirties, and currently on his knees in front of her desk as he gives her a worried look, making eye contact briefly. He pushes a number written on a piece of paper towards her fingertips, then gets up and dusts his knees. Penny notices that he must be at least six feet two, and the way his light hair falls into his eyes, stormy and dark like the main protagonist from a cheap romance novel, and pockets his number.

Then she chastises herself – noticing the looks of her teacher while not understanding any of the maths that he teaches disgusts her, now that she has decided to be a Reformed Penny and make something of herself. Noticing that he is still crouched in front of her desk, she smiles and replies daintily:

"I'm fine – I can sort of remember this stuff from school. Thanks for the offer though!"

She does not realize that she has lied, until he picks himself up and walks over to another student. She tells herself that she will eventually figure it out and make sense of the numbers, but really, she knows that she only lied because she does not want to look stupid. '_But I am stupid, and none of this makes sense,' _she thinks, discreetly trying to blink away the tears that has welled up in her eyes. Her good mood vanishes instantly.

When the class is let out in a little over twenty minutes, Penny is among the first to walk out of the door, her bag slung over one shoulder casually. As she starts the engine in her car, she tries to plan her goals. She is twenty five, with a high school diploma; if she can do well enough in community college, she can transfer to a real university, where she can study something that interests her and make a real career out of it. Everything had been going smoothly until that disastrous mandatory maths class – now Penny isn't sure whether she'd pass the class, let alone do well enough to move on to a university at the end of the year.

Penny knows that seducing her maths teacher is no longer a valid option, not if she really wants to turn her life around. As she drives along the road, windows down and the radio blaring, she finds herself hoping that she will have more luck at home wrestling with algebra, and stop herself from chatting up Mr. Dawson for an easy pass. She wants to do well, really well this time, and she wants to prove it to herself that she can do it alone, without help.


	4. Chapter 5

Numbers flash inside her eyelids like tiny stars, where her darkness is its own galaxy, churning and morphing into feelings that swallow her whole – she is lost inside herself and the nearest exit can only be reached by solving for x in this damned equation.

She shoves her notebook away with a frustrated growl and buries her head in her arms. There is an incessant knock at her door, which, accompanied by feminine chatter and excited voices, tells her that Amy and Bernadette have arrived – an impromptu, spur of the momentgirls' night, no doubt.

"Bestie, we know that you're inside. There is light pouring out from under the door, and we can hear you sighing from here. Open the door, now, and let us in."

"Penny, are you okay?"

Penny notes that while Bernadette sounds concerned, Amy is monotonous – as usual – and resists the urge to suddenly confront the neurobiologist and show her why Wyatt had nicknamed her Slugger all those years ago. There is an unexpected outrage building up inside her towards Amy, for reasons Penny cannot – will not – fathom; she stays unmoving in her slumped position as she feels herself being swept away by a sudden rush of emotions that have been pent up for far too long. It is directed towards Amy, her self-appointed 'bestie' – an entirely one sided sentiment that goes unappreciated from Penny's end.

The way Amy has latched herself onto Penny has always irritated her, but the slight annoyance she has felt has always been overshadowed by smugness at being adored and worshipped. It is like a continuation of high school, where the prom queen is always flanked by the geeks who are desperate for approval; the confidence that Penny's career, or the lack thereof, has been draining from her is reimbursed, albeit in a strange, roundabout way, by Amy's adoration of her that borders on obsession.

"That's actually sick," Penny whispers to herself. She has never considered the reasons behind her tolerance of Amy before now, and the reality is like a cold slap in the face. Penny has always thought of herself to be fair and open, always striving to be kind to all – the revelation suddenly makes her sick to her stomach.

That she doesn't actually like Amy isn't what bothers Penny; the real reason behind her distress is that she has been using Amy to fuel her rapidly dwindling self confidence, so that she can continue to grasp at the ends of her prom queen status and close her eyes to reality, where she is a waitress at a food dispenser with no future and a string of failed romances.

"Amy is a super smart neuro-something with a stable job. I guess the high school geek turned out to be the best out of all of us, huh?" Penny forces herself to acknowledge that the tables have turned, ignoring the flaring ache that drills into her heart like a toothache.

"Bestie, are you unwell? If you open the door, I, as your bestie, can take care of you and stroke your golden tresses while you vomit into the cistern."

"Amy, I don't that's going to make her open the door. Maybe we should come back later, and get the guys to check up on – hey, Penny! We thought you were sick. Can we come in?"

Bernadette's voice is too chirpy for Penny's rapid downward spiral to endure, but she does so anyway, fixing a grin on her face and welcoming the two biologists into her home.

"Penny, why is there eighth grade algebra on the table?"

Penny ignores the unintentional jab; – _eighth grade! So what if she was so stupid that she was worse than an eighth grader? _– smiles even brighter until it feels like her cheeks are going to burst. Amy and Bernadette are examining her homework material with huge interest, and she is pretty sure she saw one of them wince at the plethora of wrong answers the page must be full of before she'd accepted defeat. Embarrassment surges through her veins like wildfire, and she flushes before snatching the paper out of their hands.

"I've decided to go back to community college, take a few classes, you know? It's only part time, because I have to work and blah blah, but I'm hoping it's a start at least."

"That's really great! We're so proud of you, Penny, that's a really huge decision to make. What classes are you taking, apart from maths? Do you have any plans?"

"Right now I'm only taking this maths class and an English class. I don't really have any plans yet, except that I know I want to go to a real university eventually, and study what I want, and – yeah."

Amy and Bernadette smile warmly at her, but all she can feel are her insides twisting and a cold chill invading her body like it'd suddenly dropped ten degrees inside the room. She doesn't like that they know of her plans this early – she'd intended to let the others know after she had settled in, maybe casually drop a remark about that A she had earned last week – certainly not in the midst of a mathematical crisis where an F on her maths assignment is looking more and more likely. Penny feels herself shrink a little more.

"So, Penny, uh…do you want some help with these questions? Algebra is tricky, and I remember struggling heaps trying to understand quadratics."

"Oh, I'm fine, Bernadette, but thanks anyway! I'll probably figure them out later when I'm more rested. Anyway, do you guys wanna watch a movie?"

"Are you sure, bestie? These equations look like they've been tortured by a dyscalculia-suffering kindergartener. If you want, I offer myself as your personal homework pet until you're done with college."

Penny has to remind herself to not glare at Amy openly, that sticking her foot in her mouth isn't what the neurobiologist intended to do, that all she wants to do is help her first and 'best' friend. Luckily, Bernadette tugs on the hem of Amy's cardigan, frantically gesturing her to be silent. Penny smiles as if she is oblivious to the underlying, if unintentional insult.

Both Amy and Bernadette are highly respected biologists with a fancy letter or two at the ends of their names, and that's what makes Penny refuse their aid. She knows that the feeling of insecurity rearing its ugly head inside her will be the reason why she fails her maths class, but every time she imagines them raking their gazes over her disastrous homework paper, she feels dizzy and terrified that behind their kind smiles lies a patronizing ego that pities the blonde prom queen for being a _failure_.

Penny knows that she is one – another beautiful prom queen who ended up crashing and burning after high school ended, destined to be at the beck and call of the geeks with fancy degrees from whom she takes lunch orders.

*z*

Sheldon finds himself to be alone on Anything Can Happen Thursday, slumped in his spot at apartment 4A with a game controller loosely dangling from his fingers. The group dynamics between Leonard, Howard, Raj and himself have yet to return to normal after Howard's outburst, and it has become clear whose side his friends have chosen after several days of uncomfortable lunches at Caltech and Leonard's feeble excuses every night as he races off to Raj's apartment.

His eyes are blank and guarded as he neatly packs up the controller after a moment's hesitation. He feels disappointed and hurt – oh yes, it was possible for him to feel the sting of pain at being left behind, despite all those wild theories about him having no heart – that his friends have elected to stay away from him, but the largest portion of his anger is directed at himself for having let human relationships affect him so hugely as they do right now.

"They have disrupted everything, even my routines."

The softly uttered sentence sounds raw and pathetic to his ears. Sheldon thrives in routine, derived from order and structure because of its predictability and the way nothing is unexpected; and now that his routines are being continuously disrupted by his so-called friends, he finds himself dangerously teetering on the edge of chaos, from which a call beckons: chaos represents change, and change is a euphemism for being left behind.

He never wants to be left behind again.

Sheldon's eidetic memory allows him to recall Missy's tearful accusations, fired rapidly and venomously at his eleven year old self the day he left for University of Texas in Houston, in crystal clear detail. He does so now, remembering with perfect clarity the way her voice had shaken as she hurled phrases like '_you think you're too good for the rest of us', _'_betrayer' _and '_why are you leaving me behind, Shelly?'_

Sheldon cringes – even after all this time, the memory still stings. For good reason, he thinks; it was when he'd left Missy behind for the first time in his life.

What Missy hadn't known then was that he was really the one being left behind by all of them, the moment he stepped on the train that would take him to Houston. He would be completely alone from then on.

University at age eleven was hard enough; a doctorate at sixteen was monstrously difficult amidst the throes of young adults whose egos could not handle being one-upped by a child. Sheldon has never felt sufficiently challenged by his degrees, whether it was a bachelor's or a doctorate, but the cold fact that he was alone is one from which that he has never been able to move on.

Sheldon does not enjoy lapsing back into thoughts about solitude, and stops himself before he can delve any further. He knows that befriending Leonard and the rest of them, allowing them access into his innermost self – granting them friendship, no less – is the reason behind his melancholia, and thinks to himself: '_without people, I am invulnerable.' _It is a flawless reasoning, he decides.

Retrieving his razor from the bedside table takes less than a minute, and even though he considers doing it in his bedroom, he decides to stay in his spot in the name of whimsy. This time, the cuts are quick and deeper than ever, and his fingers don't hesitate even once as they dance down his forearms.

* * *

**A/N: **So many plot holes, and even more plot bunnies. Damn...one day I'll find a balance, I swear. I really don't like the way Sheldon has been isolated from Leonard and the gang, but I just want to get on with the second part of the story that I'm just bulldozing through the lesser details. My English teacher would have my head if he ever read this story...but I swear, writing fanfiction is a huge release that you can't get anywhere else, despite (or maybe because of!) the bad grammar, lack of character development/depth and atrocious character interactions.

Once again, thank you everyone for the reviews. I hope everyone had a happy Saturnalia. :)


	5. Chapter 6

_"Dad, stop, stop, please – you're hurting me,"_

_"Shut up, little shit. You think you're so clever, going off to college at eleven and talking about science shit? You're a fucking embarrassment. You can't catch a ball or fight, and all you do is cry like a fucking baby every time someone gets a little rough. Fucking shit, I'll teach you your place, son of a bitch –"_

_Even through his swollen eyes, he could see the blow coming before it landed on him, propelling him backwards – at an acceleration of zero point zero nine metres a second, his brain whispered. He crashed into the patio wall, where he crumpled like a scrunched up paper ball and fought to breathe steadily. He could feel an unpleasant, sticky wetness running down the side of his face, and smothered a whimper as he saw his father's shadow loom over him._

_George Cooper Sr. smashed his beer bottle over his youngest son's head, knocking him unconscious. An eleven year old Sheldon lay curled up into a ball, broken and bloody, taking short, gasping breaths as blood pooled beneath him. Fragments of broken glass were embedded into his skull, shoulders and back, as were shards of ceramic pottery that George Sr. had thrown at him earlier; a leg protruded at an unnatural angle, as countless bruises dotted his fragile body._

Sheldon awakes with a start, shivering uncontrollably and clutching his chest as if he'd reverted back to being eleven and broken. It is the same dream that plagues his sleep and stops him from achieving full REM cycles every night.

It is not the worst beating he has taken so far – the one he had gotten after getting his first Ph.D. takes the cake, where he ended up being hospitalized for a month. Yet it invokes the most fear from him. Sheldon thinks that it's because it is the most vivid reminder he has ever gotten that someone hates him enough to hurt him to the brink of death.

The clock flashes a 5:18 AM to his tired eyes. It is forty two minutes before he is supposed to wake up, but for the last two weeks or so, he hasn't had more than four hours of sleep a night, if that – the dreams are returning, stronger than ever. Part of it is from the stress that he has been under, as well as the relentless bullying – he still cannot believe he is being bullied at age twenty nine and eleven months – from Kripke and Leslie Winkle that hasn't stopped ever since the Arctic fiasco.

Yet Sheldon knows that the ghosts of the past are haunting him once again because of the way Ramona Nowitzki reminded him of the undergrad student in Germany, and the way she had –

Sheldon leaps out of the bed and heads to his drawer, rummaging through it roughly in search of the one object that will stop his train of thought.

This time he carves into his right forearm, holding the blade in his left hand. He is not ambidextrous, so the cuts are uncontrolled, as his hand trembles and lose control of the blade. When he feels himself going light headed, he stops and wonders whether he'd gone too far this time, before passing out on the cold floor, twelve minutes before six in the morning.

*z*

Leonard Hofstadter is not an avid supporter of routine unlike his roommate; yet when he realizes that Sheldon has not taken his shower, despite it being 6:45 in the morning, he immediately knows that something has gone awry.

Armed with this knowledge, Leonard feels it his duty to knock on Sheldon's door to find out why he has not engaged himself in routines that he has been following for the past five years. When there is no response, Leonard gently pushes the door handle and lets himself inside, half praying that Sheldon won't give him a strike again.

He expects to find Sheldon, still in bed and deeply asleep.

What he finds instead is a Sheldon who has collapsed on the floor, drenched in his own blood.

Fighting an urge to vomit, Leonard slowly drops down next to Sheldon, eyes wide in disbelief at the curious turn of events that have befallen them. He cannot comprehend why Sheldon is lying in a pool of blood, so he pushes reality into a side corridor and chooses to fixate himself on his observations.

Sheldon, clad in his Friday pajamas, appears to be unconscious and barely breathing – little gasps of breath that sound dangerously shallow and too far apart. A trembling finger at his neck tells Leonard that there is a weak pulse – so he's not _gone_, which means he'll be fine, he mutters – and when he turns Sheldon onto his back, the deep gashes in his right forearm that is still spouting what looks like gallons of blood seems to be the main source of blood.

Leonard doesn't allow himself to bask in the inevitable questions of _who, why, what_ or _how_ that his mind is threatening to explore, because he knows that once he asks himself those questions, he'll be frozen and useless to help Sheldon. Instead, he gently pulls Sheldon onto his bed – to get him away from the blood, because it scares him – and inspects the cuts on his arms.

There seems to be a dozen of them, most of them maybe a foot in length and deeper than he'd like to think. The surprise doesn't end here, however – when he lifts Sheldon's left arm, he finds thick bandages wrapped around it that are soaked with even more blood. Fearful of what this may mean, Leonard unwraps the bandages in morbid curiosity.

There are even more cuts on his left arm, although they look a little older. The dark lighting of the room doesn't let him see much more beyond the open wounds, but Leonard thinks he can make out old scars that cross Sheldon's arms like train tracks.

"Fuck."

It's the only word that makes sense to him right now – he can't think past the raging throbbing in his head between his temples. Leonard feels as if he's about to implode – but he _can't_, he tells himself forcefully - Sheldon needs him right now.

With trembling fingers, Leonard calls for the only 'real' doctor that he knows – Stephanie.

"Hey, Stephanie, I know it's really early and I'm sorry, but Sheldon's really hurt and I don't know what to do – can you come to the apartment now? He hates hospitals, and I don't know anyone else who can help; there's so much blood and he's all clammy and – and –shit, Steph, just please come-"

Leonard feels himself hyperventilate, straining to stay coherent as he begs her to stop by. When her '_I'll be there in ten, so stop blubbering, for god's sake'_ meets his ears, he drops the phone and lets the floodgates open, unleashing the torrent of questions and something far greater, rougher, _sadder_ that overflow into his eyes and drip down his cheeks.

*z*

A dazed Leonard finds himself pacing erratically inside the ER at nine in the morning. There are threads of words and sentences reverberating somewhere inside his cranium in a disjointed, chaotic whirl, and he finds himself rewinding Stephanie's words over and over again.

'_He's lost a lot of blood – Jesus, Leonard, why didn't you do anything to staunch the blood flow or something?'_

He has failed – failed Sheldon, his roommate and closest friend, failed himself, failed the world of physics if Sheldon doesn't open his eyes again.

'_These scars go back a long time – you see that long jagged one? That can't be more than a week old, possibly done with a machete or any other blade with serrated edges. These straights ones were probably done with a normal razor – they look pretty damn deep and right close to the veins too. Holy shit, why does Sheldon have so many cuts? He must have done them himself – didn't you know anything about this? Is this why he insists on those damned long sleeves?'_

Leonard has never noticed, not even once during the five years they have spent living together, in adjacent bedrooms. He has never questioned why Sheldon wore long sleeves during summer, even when he is red and perspiring from the heat waves.

"Stop pacing, you're giving me a headache." Stephanie chides sharply, her heels clicking against the floor as she walks towards him. Leonard notes that she looks exhausted.

"Sorry, nerves – I just can't believe that I never saw it, you know? I've been living with the guy for so long but never bothered to ask why he wore those thermals all the time."

"So you have no idea why Dr. Sheldon Cooper, neurotic bundle of crazy tried to kill himself?"

Leonard starts to answer her; abruptly pauses.

"So you do have an idea, huh?"

Stephanie notices the way his mouth hangs open, the sudden, sickened gleam of realization in his eyes. And she pities him – she's no stranger to the remorse from concerned friends and family who ignored the signs until it was too late. Absently patting him on his shoulders, she leads him out of the ER and into the deserted back corridor.

"Spill it, doc. You'll feel better once you start talking, trust me."

So Leonard starts talking, and he finds that once he starts, it's impossible to stop.

"Sheldon had a spat with Howard a few days ago; by being his usual condescending jerk self. Howard snapped and walked out, and the rest of us kinda followed."

He's so engrossed in his own recollections that he misses the way Stephanie raises an eyebrow.

"You mean after everything Sheldon's done, Howard was what it took for you to run away at last? Something doesn't add up."

"Honestly – I think it was inevitable. Sheldon's always going on and on about how smart he is, how important his work is, blah blah, and you know how he's always given Howard shit for not having a doctorate. None of us like to hear how crappy we are compared to him, you know? We just tried to ignore it for years, let the guy have his quirks, but when Howard blew up at him…"

"You agreed with him?"

"Exactly."

Leonard looks relieved that she seems to have figured it out. Leaning against the wall with a heavy sigh, Stephanie urges him to continue.

"Howard, Raj and I've been," he stammers, suddenly ashamed, "avoiding Sheldon after that. Hanging out at Raj's place, eating lunch in my office at the university, being totally immature and acting like a kid."

"Because you were angry with him, or what?"

"Kind of; it was more of not wanting to see the guy – I don't know, but after hearing Howard yell at him that he was being a dick, and realizing that you agreed with what he said, we didn't want to spend time with him. Oh god, that sounds really bad."

"How come you never brought it up before, if you think that Sheldon's a huge jerk? You've been living with him for a long time and never said anything like this, I think."

"When Sheldon wants something, he's a force of nature, and it's just easier to listen to him and not argue. Even when he's being condescending and saying mean things, you know that he's not trying to be a dick on purpose, that he actually believes that what he's saying is right. Hell, I don't know, it's just easier to let Sheldon be Sheldon!"

Indignation colours his tone as Leonard runs a hand through his hair. He's confused like hell about Stephanie's question himself, but he doesn't tell her that every time he looks at Sheldon, he feels tiny – he unconsciously adds in 'metaphorically' to placate Sheldon's literal-mindedness, like he's always done – as if he's a boulder while Sheldon is a monolith, gargantuan in both stature and brilliance. Leonard doesn't acknowledge the tinge of inferiority he's so engrossed in, nor does he accept that he stays with Sheldon partly because a rare compliment from him lights up his entire week, can make him feel as if he is brilliant and on top of the world.

Leonard sure as hell doesn't mention the vicious pleasure he felt at watching Sheldon eat at the Caltech cafeteria alone from afar, the thrill that made his fingertips tingle at seeing him alone while he had friends, nor the feeling of empowerment at not being the unwanted _outcast_ anymore.

Then he remembers that Sheldon is in the ER somewhere, because he has tried to kill himself.

The small bubbles of smugness from moments ago dissipate immediately, replaced with a churning squirm of worry and shame.

**A/N:** Things are starting to speed up! I'm so excited to finally be able to write about the myriads of little problems that are eating into not only Sheldon, but the others as well. No Penny in this chapter, but fear not; she'll be the main focus of the next chapter! I'm very much anticipating her inevitable (and approaching) breakdown and subsequent recovery...which will be with Sheldon (and the gang, to a lesser extent). Once again, thank you everyone who reviewed, followed or added this fic to their favourites list :)


	6. Chapter 7

Howard and Raj are at the hospital minutes after Leonard calls them, muttering in truncated sentences about Sheldon's predicament. He doesn't tell them much, apart from how Sheldon spent most of his Friday morning in the ER. Truthfully, he's a little surprised that Howard comes to see Sheldon, especially when he remembers that the engineer knows no details about the _incident_ or the reason for its causality.

As he waits, seated in the uncomfortably stiff seat in an empty corridor where Stephanie left him, Raj sits next to him, instant coffee in hand.

"You weren't very clear on the phone. What did Sheldon do now?"

Leonard takes a moment to inspect the astrophysicist with a surprisingly clear mind. He notes the casual tone and the carefully chosen words, and fights to keep a relieved sigh at bay when he can detect the underlying ring of concern in his voice.

"Where's Howard?"

"Talking to Bernadette outside; she called him just before he left the lab to ask if he wanted to go out to eat for lunch together, and when he told her that Sheldon was in hospital, she got worried and made him promise to call her back as soon as he arrived."

"Won't he have to know what's wrong with Sheldon before calling her?"

"I tried to tell him that, but I think he's just stalling for time. He was kinda reluctant to come, you know?"

Leonard and Raj share a wordless look. They're both aware of how much Sheldon's bluntness affects Howard, especially the scathing castigations about his lack of a doctorate. They know how the two have never thought of each other as _friends_ – they happened to share mutual friends in Leonard, Raj and Bernadette, but never bonded or took the time to appreciate each other.

"So what _did _Sheldon do to end up at the ER?"

"Yeah, about that…"

As Leonard tries to prepare himself mentally to tell the astrophysicist the events that led to Sheldon's hospitalization, Howard saunters towards them, phone still in hand.

"Bernie wants me to text her when I find out what's wrong with Sheldon. Guess I can't back out now, huh?"

The neutral expression on the engineer's face doesn't go unnoticed by Leonard. _Screw being gentle with them, _he decides quickly.

"Sheldon wasn't up when I was going to take my shower – you know how meticulous he is about his routines and OCD – so I decided to check up on him, just in case he wasn't building a death ray or something."

"I've never heard of Sheldon missing a routine before. He's built his entire life around them – he's so anal about order and doing things his way, there's no way that he could bring himself to suddenly 'descend into anarchy', or something."

Howard still sounds bitter, but Leonard dismisses it for now.

"I knocked, but he didn't answer, so I opened the door, fully expecting to get twenty strikes," he shudders unconsciously as he remembers what came next, "I found him on the floor, in a puddle of blood – his own."

Raj gasps loudly; Howard freezes, the faint sneer of derision sliding off his lips. Leonard notices that they look utterly lost for a moment as they digest his bombshell.

"What – blood – from where? Why?"

"It looked like he'd slit his own wrists. As for _why_…no one knows yet, but I have a couple of ideas."

"Did Amy break up with him? Is his mum okay? Do – do you reckon he's still devastated about the Arctic?"

They all pale a little at the last suggestion.

"He's been fine with it for years now, I'm – I'm sure that wasn't it. No, I think it might've been because of the fight he had with Howard."

"So you're blaming me – that it's my fault he tried to kill himself?"

"I'm not blaming you, I'm just making a suggestion. It's not like anything else happened recently to set him off."

Howard glares at the diminutive physicist, but doesn't reply. Instead he drops his gaze to the mausoleum floor, clenching his knuckles tightly.

"Howard, sit down and breathe for a moment. Leonard, do you know when we can see Sheldon?"

"I don't even know what they're doing with him right now. I haven't seen him since we arrived here, and they wheeled him off."

"How serious was he? The – his wrists, I mean."

"Deep, still bleeding, maybe a foot in length, from wrist to elbow. Maybe half a dozen fresh cuts?"

"When you say 'fresh'…"

"Yeah, I meant fresh, as in there's about a billion not-so-fresh cuts on him as well."

Raj pales; Howard's head snaps back up quickly, grey eyes clouding with questions – and Leonard notes to himself, pained surprise – as he stares into the wall in front.

"And you have no idea why he's been cutting himself? How long's he been doing this for?"

"Hell if I know. Months, years? Stephanie thinks it's why he always insists on those long sleeves, to hide them. I never knew until this morning."

"How am I supposed to respond to that?"

Howard's question takes both Raj and Leonard by complete surprise. Their eyes widen comically as they digest the ostensibly innocent question. The engineer continues, voice suddenly shaky with what sounds like fear and guilt.

"Sheldon's always been a condescending bastard, never believing that he could ever be wrong. Remember how he forfeited the physics bowl, rather than let the cleaner win it for him? He's always been arrogant and neurotic, selfish as hell; he's never shown an ounce of compassion or empathy or any kinds of feelings that would indicate that he has a heart instead of a processor."

His eyes are blazing now, as he pours out relentlessly the buried feelings he withheld for years.

"So one day, I decide to finally snap back and call him out for being an unfeeling dick. You two supported me because you guys _agreed_ with me – that Sheldon's a giant ass who doesn't do nice unless there's a comic book at the end of it – then a couple of days later, Leonard tells me that he's in the ER because he tried to kill himself. What the hell am I supposed to say or feel about this? Am I supposed to be guilty because I was mean to him? Feel sorry for the guy because he's been secretly slashing his wrists open for years? Beg for forgiveness?"

There are tears running down his cheeks now, but he still doesn't stop.

"He's always given me hell for not having a doctorate. I'm the treasured acquaintance, remember? The guy who isn't good enough to even be his friend because of a stupid sheet of paper that adds three letters after my name? So what am I supposed to do, when I find out that he's tried to kill himself and that it might be my fault?"

"Howard, you don't have to feel guilty,"

"Why not? I told him what everyone around him has been thinking about him ever since he came into their lives, and he ends up in the hospital because of attempted suicide because of it – I'm the reason he slit his wrists, Leonard. And I'm not even sure what I'm feeling right now, because a part of me is hating him so much for doing this to me when he clearly had it coming, that he can't even handle the truth, that he's a dick who no one wants to be around – but another part of me is feeling like shit because it's _my fault he tried to die _and I feel so fucking guilty."

Howard slides down the wall he's been leaning against and curls up into a tight ball on the floor, silent sobs shuddering through him like tremors of an earthquake. He's spat out words that he has never dared to even think of before, and the aftermath is both bittersweet and liberating – and that makes him feel even more awful, because he knows that he only feels guilty because he doesn't want to be the cause of someone's suicide attempt. He's _not_ sorry that he said what he said to Sheldon, though, and he doesn't feel his animosity towards him lessen, not even a little…in fact, it increases because of the guilt that it makes him feel.

"I feel like such a shitty person, because I'm not even sorry that I said those things to him, it still makes me feel so _free_ to finally stand up to him; in fact I kinda hate him right now for making me feel so horrible. I don't _want_ to feel like this, I want to be sad and devastated that he's lying on a hospital bed somewhere, that he felt so bad to the point where he tried to kill himself, but I _can't_ and that's what makes me feel the worst out of it all!"

Leonard and Raj are slack-jawed as they watch the engineer try to fold into himself. It hurts them to see him so crushed, but at the same time his confession is shockingly unexpected; they're surprised that Sheldon's words have cut Howard so deeply.

Both of their doctorates are shields against Sheldon's vitriol against Howard, but even so, they're able to see that Sheldon feels that only people with doctorates are made privy to the highest circles of knowledge – the only facts Sheldon knows are from books and papers, so to consider a situation where someone – treasured acquaintance or not – without the most advanced of degrees knows something worthwhile of acknowledgement is simply unfathomable.

They don't blame Howard though. They've seen how cutting Sheldon's offhanded remarks can be, how barbed his 'opinion' can feel, even though he's unable to recognize the hurtful nature of his own words. They've felt it first hand, felt extremely small and unimportant by his dismissal of their intellect and capabilities…so neither Leonard or Raj blames Howard at all for how he feels. They can sympathise perfectly well.

When Howard hears their reassurances, that they don't think any less of him because of his confessions, and that it isn't his fault Sheldon did what he did, he feels immensely relieved, but is quick to point out:

"Why, then, do you reckon he's been cutting for so long?"

None of them knows how to answer that; so they don't. Howard texts Bernadette to update her about the situation, while Leonard and Raj debates whether to let Amy know about Sheldon's plight or not. Raj silently considers texting Penny, but quickly decides against it when he remembers how awkward it is between Leonard and her right now.

**A/N:** I know I said that Penny would be the focus of the next chapter, but I couldn't not write about Howard. D: Sorry? ): Next chapter is already in the works, and will be up shortly. Thanks guys for the reviews and follows :)


	7. Chapter 8

Penny stares blankly at the red F on the top of her algebra test. She can faintly hear the professor congratulate the class on their efforts, but she isn't registering much else – she feels like she's seven and drowning again, ears waterlogged and lungs burning as they struggle to keep her afloat. She's gotten bad grades before back in Omaha; this isn't her first fail, but nothing could have prepared for the onslaught of devastation that charges full volume towards her.

She tried _so hard_. She hasn't gone out or drunk at all this week, choosing to revise for her math test for hours after work, but this glaringly red F is yet _another_ insignia of her inability to be anything more than a pretty face, even if she so desperately wants to be something more than that.

"There are two more exams before the finals. Even if you didn't do as well as you'd have liked in this exam, there's plenty of time to make up for it, so don't be discouraged! Overall, I'm happy with the level of commitment, effort and improvement that you've all shown me. You guys should be proud of yourselves. If anyone wants to talk to me – whether it's about this exam, or just help in general, just drop into my office at any time!"

The professor – Dawson, Penny recalls – looks satisfied, showing off rows of white teeth as he grins widely. For a brief moment, she considers talking to him, asking him to help her get the hang of algebra so that she can at least pass the class.

"Penny, do you want to see me after class, so that I can help you with the class? I noticed that you weren't doing as well as you could be doing, and I want you to do as well as you can."

"I'm fine, sir! I'll just need to study a little more for next time."

But she doesn't, and lies through her teeth. He cocks his head imperceptibly, but accepts her words and walks away.

Penny feels just a little bit proud of herself for holding it in until she's safe within her own apartment. As soon as she kicks off the heels and flops down onto the couch, the tears start to flood and she doesn't hold back as giant, pained sobs shudder through her hunched shoulders.

She isn't crying because she failed – she's upset because she failed despite her best efforts. Penny has no idea how she can stand to ever look at Bernadette and Amy in the face again without wanting to either break down and sob on their shoulders, or break their faces with the baseball bat hidden discreetly behind her shoe rack. She knows that her anger towards them is misdirected and irrational – it's not their fault that she's stupid and they aren't – but something so deep inside her that she hasn't realized it was there until just then is threatening to shatter, embedding delicate fragments of god-knows-how-terrible depression inside her until she dies, all bloodied up and broken on the inside (yet perfectly groomed on the outside, because she _is_ good at being attractive).

She was prom queen during high school, where she got the smart kids to do her homework and crown her Queen of the Corn Court, but in the real world, it turns out that being smart gets you the prom queen to serve you food.

She thinks of Amy or Bernadette – then looks at herself. If she'd known about this tradeoff beforehand, Penny knows now that she would have (should have) chosen the smarts over popularity.

She just wants to be _somebody_. A twenty five year old with a hemorrhoid commercial and a shitty Anne Frank play is not _somebody_…so she's trying her hand at school so that she can have a shot at having a real career that doesn't involve serving food to mouthy perverts and annoying toddlers for minimum wage, but that F sitting atop her algebra test is just the final nail in the coffin that tells her that she won't ever amount to anything more than a Cheesecake Factory veteran waitress.

"Penny, are you in?"

Bernadette's voice, chirpy and cheerful as usual piques from the door. Penny considers staying silent and opening a new bottle of wine to drown away any semblance of coherence for the next twelve hours, but somehow manages to croak out an invitation to enter.

"Did you just come back from class? I checked earlier, but you weren't he – were you crying? What's wrong, Penny? Did anything happen?"

She sounds genuinely concerned as she wraps an arm around Penny.

"…I'm a f-failure."

"Of course you aren't! Look, Penny, what happened? Is everything okay?"

"I-I failed my algebra test today, even though I studied so _fucking hard_."

"Oh, Penny – everyone flunks something at _least_ once. Don't be so sad over this test; you can study harder and ace your next one! Do you know why you didn't do…as well as you'd have liked?"

"I didn't even _understand_ half the crap we've been doing in class, even though I spent so long every night studying. I'm _stupid_, unlike you or Amy or any of the guys, and I'm gonna be stuck at the Cheesecake Factory until no one wants to have sex with me – and then I won't even have enough to pay rent – then I'll have to move back to Nebraska – and I'll be an ugly nobody!"

Penny finds out that once she's in Bernadette's company, all her rage towards her dissipates almost immediately. She lets herself be hugged fiercely, and listens to the torrents of comforting niceties that slide right past her without finding their target. She doesn't feel better about herself, but it's so _relieving_ to hear someone tell her that she isn't a failure.

"Do you – I mean, if you don't mind, I could help you with your math class later, so that you can catch up? Everyone finds math hard at first, especially if they haven't done it for nearly a decade."

Penny wants to refuse, and tell her that she can bear her own burdens, but Bernadette's huge eyes boring earnestly into her own reek of such _goodwill _and _sincerity_ that she gives a tiny, jerky nod, managing to whisper out thanks before breaking into another round of sobs.

This time the tears are for her: she is so pathetic that someone feels _pity_ for her and wants to help her out. That Bernadette – sweet, gentle Bernadette- is looking at her with sympathy, and _fucking compassion_ makes Penny want to die – she loathes that she doesn't have any more pride left, but hates, even more than that, that unless she accepts the help offered, she really will fail college again.

"Thank you for letting me help, Penny."

Bernadette whispers softly, patting her back hesitantly. Seeing Penny so distraught makes her own heart ache; but she has a bomb to deliver:

"Sheldon is at the hospital. I thought you might like to see him, so I actually came to pick you up, if you want. All the guys are there, and I'm pretty sure Amy will be on her way too once Leonard manages to get through to her."

At once, Penny feels herself stiffening – she thinks back to her last encounter with the lanky physicist. She'd wished, _so hard_, that he would never change so that she could use him as an anchor to keep her tethered to Pasadena (lest she floats away and can't find her way back) but it's as if she can almost feel the cogs turning in the air, her skin tingling lightly with something that she can't quite put her finger on.

She murmurs warily, half hoping that Bernadette doesn't answer. "Why is he in the hospital?"

"Before that, have you noticed anything weird in Sheldon's behavior lately, or at all?"

"When is he not weird?"

"Penny, Sheldon tried to kill himself last night. Leonard found him this morning, bleeding out in his own room and rushed him to the ER. We found out that he's been self harming for years possibly."

Bernadette gently continues, but Penny doesn't hear anything else – she remembers the subdued, only-clad-in-one-layer physicist who'd sat on her couch, looking decidedly uncomfortable and strangely small; the way his eyes had desperately begged her to not notice anything. It feels like her brain has gone into overdrive, zoning into that image until the cornflower blue of his eyes spill over into her mind and drown her inside it, because she suddenly can't _breathe_ and her cheeks are wet and she can't stop thinking about how much she has _failed _Sheldon and –

"Penny, breathe! Are you okay?" Bernadette clutches her shoulders and gives her a hearty shake.

"…I knew that something was off with him the last time we talked, he only had his thermal on instead of a t-shirt and I asked him if it got dirty or something and he said yes but I _knew he was lying_ but didn't call him out on it."

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"It _fucking does_, his eyes were practically begging me to not say anything more about it and he looked so _vulnerable_ for a second and I – I let it go because I didn't want him to change, and if I wasn't so fucking stupid and asked him about it anyway, he would have cracked; you know that he can't lie for shit."

"No one wants their friends to change, Penny. It's okay," Bernadette drops her arms in surprise when Penny jumps to her feet, disheveled and terrified and guilt-ridden.

"No it isn't. It really isn't okay – if I'd talked to him, he wouldn't _be _at the ER right now because he tried to _die_. I failed him, Bernadette."

Penny staggers towards the door, car keys in hand as she prepares to drive to the hospital, but Bernadette grabs her wrist and pulls her back onto the couch, blue eyes blazing.

"You listen now Penny. Leonard had no idea; Raj had no idea; Howard had no idea. I certainly didn't have a clue. You've been avoiding us for a while now – how could you have known, when even none of us noticed? You didn't fail anyone. You don't know what might have happened even if you did talk to him."

"But if I tried, at least tell him that I _care_ about him, then –"

"Howard said that he's been self harming for years, Penny. I don't think this was an impulsive stunt – obviously something's been building up for a long time. I know that you care about him a lot, but you can't start blaming yourself for things that you had absolutely no control over."

"He was my best friend, and I didn't even bother to try to talk to him after Leonard and I broke up, because I thought it'd be awkward with the bro code and all that – oh god, but the last time we broke up, he was the one to come over and talk to me because he wanted to be friends still, and he even screwed his schedule for a night to eat twice for me – fuck, why am I such a shitty friend?" she wraps her arms around herself, tears burning their way down her cheeks.

Bernadette pulls her forcefully to her feet, and scoops up a discarded cardigan slung over the arm of a chair, pushing it into Penny's arms.

"One: you're not a shitty friend. You can't blame yourself for anything, because firstly, it wouldn't do any good, and secondly, because there really is nothing to blame. Friendship doesn't have a bible or anything you need to follow, and what if you made some bad decisions? Sheldon won't care – he adores you. Now, do you want to come to the hospital to see him? That's why I came in the first place, as soon as I got the full story from the boys. Honestly, I can't believe Leonard didn't even text you…"

Penny doesn't answer as she scrambles to push her feet into the first pair of shoes she can spot. She really wants to just crawl back into bed and have an uninterrupted breakdown, but she has to see Sheldon before doing anything, has to check that he's okay, that he's still – alive.

"…How is Sheldon? He's not dead, I get that – is he okay now? If Leonard found him in the morning, that means he's been in the hospital for six, seven hours by now."

"I saw him only for a minute or two before coming to get you, but he's okay. It could have been much worse if Leonard didn't find him when he did; but he's been stable for a couple of hours now. He hasn't woken up yet, but Stephanie assured us that he'll be awake by tonight."

"Tell me about his cuts."

And Bernadette does, but as soon as she starts listening, Penny wishes that she'd kept her mouth shut.

"There's a lot of them. Some are years old, but some are pretty fresh. Most of them look pretty deep though…I'm wondering if he meant to cut as deeply as he did this time. One of the doctors said that she thinks it might have been a mistake – that he didn't notice how deeply he was cutting or how much blood was being lost."

"So he might not have wanted to die after all?" Fear and hope tumble out of her before she can swallow them back down.

Bernadette pauses imperceptibly; takes a deep breath. She chooses her words carefully. "We don't know yet, Penny. Only Sheldon knows, and we can ask him once he wakes up, okay?"

And the only thing Penny seems to be able to do then is nod and try not to flood Bernadette's car with her tears.

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**A/N:** I noticed after the last fic that a couple of people were angry with Leonard. I just want to make it very clear that this will _never_ be a Leonard-bash fic. To me, none of the boys are true villain material; all of them have such sad background stories that the show makes fun of, and I want to explore all four of them.

That being said, here's Penny! Shenny reunion next chapter. :D Sorry if Penny sounds too whiny - I'm having the most trouble with her character, and it's hard to write about such a sunny extrovert. Once again, thank you to ALL of you who reviewed/favourited/followed. :)

Now, is anyone else angry that neither TBBT or Jim Parsons won anything in the GG? I am. :/


	8. Chapter 9

Sheldon is asleep when Penny bursts into the hospital room. The guys are squashed on the small couch near the window, looking like they'd rather be elsewhere; she doesn't pay them any attention and rushes to the bedside.

He looks more peaceful than she has ever seen him look, long lashes brushing against pale cheeks as he slumbers on quietly. She notes that his cheeks are gaunt and sunken, and winces at the dark bags under his eyes; but he looks _normal_, just like that time when he's simply fallen asleep listening to her rendering of Soft Kitty. The last thought pains her, a twinge of needle-sharp guilt reverberating inside the hollows of her bones.

Then she wonders whether even then, he was hiding a train track of self inflicted cuts under that green plaid pajama top he's so fond of, and feels the edge of grief wither a little more.

She smoothes her voice to sand out the tears. "Is he going to be okay?"

"…Yeah. He went into hypovolemic shock, and they nearly lost him a couple of times, but he's pulled through." A pretty brunette – Stephanie Barnett, she remembers, Leonard's ex-girlfriend – walks in unannounced, handing Leonard a form.

"Hypo- what?" Even then, Penny curses herself for being so stupid, so ignorant.

"Hypovolemic shock. It's an emergency condition that might get triggered due to severe blood loss. But don't worry – Penny, was it? – he's okay now, even though the docs want to keep him in here for a couple of days. Leonard, fill that out, you're his emergency contact."

"Penny, are you okay?" Bernadette sounds worried, but she waves her away, slowly lowering herself to the lone chair next to Sheldon's sleeping form.

There are thick gauzes around his forearms, and an IV drip attached to one arm. She's selfishly glad that there aren't any visible signs of his plight, other than those white bandages, because she isn't sure whether she can hold herself together if he looked as broken as he is. She takes his hand gently, absently stroking it with smooth circles on the top of his palm.

"It's late, and I haven't had anything today since I brought him in. Stephanie and I are going to go home and come back tomorrow, and Raj, Howard and Bernadette are going to dinner. Do you want to come along?" Leonard stammers, but Penny doesn't hear a word he says.

Soon, the room is empty save herself and Sheldon, for which she's glad; she isn't hungry and likes the thought of standing vigil next to him while he recovers. (Too late to protect him, he's already hurt.) She doesn't understand what made him want to die, but whatever it was that drove him to this state will _pay_, she silently growls.

"Moon pie, what's going on in that big, beautiful mind of yours that you couldn't tell me about?" Even as she asks the question, she already knows the answer. They haven't been as close as they once were ever since she broke up with Leonard, and the only interactions she's had with the guys are indirect ones through Amy and Bernadette, when they talk about the guys and she listens meekly.

Even if she was still a part of their lives, Penny knows that she wouldn't have done anything for Sheldon. She's been so caught up trying to keep things in _homeostasis_, so that change doesn't overwhelm her lest she gets lost in it (now she sounds like Sheldon, which provokes another wistful giggle that morphs into a sob) – but the joke's on her, because the biggest change ends up coming from the very person who despises all forms of change and follows routine like Mary Cooper follows Christianity.

It's almost humorous, because by running away from the little waves, (she never asked him why his eyes were suddenly so sad that night) she ends up triggering the enormous tsunami that crashes down on her and drags her out to sea. (she could have lost him forever)

She really, really should have been a better friend. (it's her fault that he nearly died) She shouldn't have been so selfish, thinking only of herself and not looking out for the one person who's always had her back; (she should have asked what was wrong) she's failed him.

Penny buries her head next to his pillow. "I'm sorry, moon pie – after you lent me rent money and drove me to the hospital and sang Soft Kitty for me, I didn't even do you the decency of asking you what was wrong, huh?" Cries a little more. "I'm sorry that I failed you, Sheldon." Cries a lot more.

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**A/N:** Suuuuper short chapter today. Once again, as always, thanks for the reviews/favourites/follows :)


	9. Chapter 10

Penny wakes up to raised voices bickering under the dim hospital light. Her back is aching from the awkward crouch she has fallen asleep in, and her neck feels like it's made out of cement, stiff and unwilling to move. She cracks open an eye slowly, letting the world fall into its place around her.

"Sheldon, social convention dictates that both parties in a romantic relationship are required to be truthful to each other about their emotional status, especially if one is experiencing emotional turmoil and needs a soothing, loving partner to listen to their woes. As your girlfriend, I feel inadequate that I haven't been able to comfort you, and as vague as it sounds, make you feel better. You've deigned my intellect as well as our relationship by not enabling me to meet your emotional needs, and for that I feel as though you haven't been vigilant enough in your role as a boyfriend."

Amy's voice is collected and cool, but Penny knows her well enough to know that she is expressing her concerns over Sheldon's well being by berating his silence about what had driven him to a (thankfully unsuccessful) suicide attempt. Knowing her intentions doesn't stop her from being extremely irked, however, at her dry words of blame; and Penny bites down on an urge to frog march the neurobiologist away from Sheldon. (_No one_ is going to tell her moon pie that he's been a bad boyfriend and delegate all the blame onto him.)

"I apologise, Amy, for my erratic behavior. Social conventions still baffle me, as you know, and I wasn't aware that you feel the way you do because of my shortcomings."

A million things run through Penny's mind. _Sheldon's awake, _she yells silently; but the sheer elation she feels at this quells under the enormity of another realization. _He's saying sorry_ – _but Sheldon never says sorry without a fight, at least not when it's about someone else's feelings. _And suddenly, she wants to grab onto him and yell, _what the hell happened to the stubborn, clueless-about-other-people Sheldon? Who broke you?_ – because he sounds quiet and _defeated_ and it's almost as if Amy has tamed him, at last.

"Thank you. Now, will you share the sources of your troubles so that I can complete my duty as your girlfriend and provide you with closure and emotional support?"

Penny seethes silently, face still buried next to Sheldon's pillow, trying to ignore a growing desire to put the neurobiologist into a headlock and banish her from her sight. She doesn't understand _how_ in the world Amy can stay so logical at a time like this, when Sheldon is recovering from a suicide attempt, and follow the stock procedure for comfort that she's probably Googled to complete her "duties as a girlfriend". It's almost as if what Amy wants is a boyfriend figurehead to slide the last missing piece home, so that she has a wholesome, _normal_ social life that she's always coveted, so that she's running through the motions of a caring girlfriend mechanically to _follow social conventions. _

But it can't be right. Amy is a nice girl, and even though she may sound impartial and aloof, she does care; she's just not very skilled at expressing her feelings.

"I would like to ask for a reprieve from what you're asking of me right now, Amy." Penny cheers silently.

"Howard is driving us all up the proverbial wall with his anguish and guilt towards your predicament. I believe it would grant him a peace of mind and stop his incessant whines, were you to disclose the real reason for your apparent suicide attempt." Blunt as Amy is, it has never made Penny feel so angry that she has to lock her spine into place so to not jump on her and show her the Nebraskan method of solving differences. _Suicide attempt, _she spits, not quite believing the gall of the neurobiologist.

Then it hits her: Howard is feeling guilty. Penny wonders why, but there's a sinking feeling in her stomach that tells her she doesn't really want to know the gritty details of the politics behind the guys' ostensible rapport.

Her neck is killing her, and she feels like if she has to stay still for another second longer, her back might crack into a thousand pieces; but Amy shows no signs of leaving anytime soon, and Sheldon doesn't stir. A secretive peek at the clock on the wall tells her that she has been asleep for some time now; it reads half past nine, and she idly wonders why the hospital hasn't kicked her out since visiting hours should surely be over by now.

"I wasn't trying to die, Amy Farrah Fowler. You can reassure Howard that it is in no way his fault, and that he shouldn't be feeling guilt over my present condition, as it was both entirely accidental and unrelated to anything he has done." Penny doesn't miss the way his voice sags, soft and without even a hint of condescension or bite for the first time since she's known him.

He sounds defeated; this manages to make her sadder than the F on her test that, which had felt like someone dumped a pile of boulders onto her shoulders until she was stooping and struggling to stay afloat amidst the barrenness that seemed to permeate everywhere.

"Are you saying that you weren't attempting suicide early this morning, when Leonard found you slumped in your bedroom? Is it plausible that the razor happened to _accidentally _fall onto your wrists multiple times, until life threatening amounts of blood was lost through the foot-long incisions on your forearms? Surely, Sheldon, you can do better than that."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Amy. Now, I'd appreciate it if you left for tonight. Did Leonard return to the apartment while I was asleep?"

"He and Dr. Barnett left the hospital several hours ago. I don't mind staying with you for longer; as your girlfriend, it is my duty and obligation to take care of you. You wrote the clause yourself into our Relationship Agreement. Would you care, then, for a round of Counterfactuals?"

"Amy, I am exhausted and frankly desire nothing more than the familiar walls of my own bedroom. I realize that this is a futile wish, at least for the present. I would like you to leave now."

Penny barely hears Amy bidding Sheldon goodbye over the erratic beating of her heart in her ears; she sees red at her insensitivity and tactlessness, and doesn't bother to filter her own thoughts out anymore. Ignoring the babble of curses against her self-proclaimed bestie, she realizes that at last, she and Sheldon are alone.

She lifts her head slowly, suppressing a groan as she feels her muscles protest and creak after staying in the same awkward position for so long. Almost shyly she smoothes her hair and hopes that there isn't any sleep gunk in her eyes, and finally meets the pair of blue eyes that she's waited for so long.

"Hey, moon pie – how are you feeling?" She doesn't let go of their clasped hands.

His response is automatic, just like she'd known it would be. "No one but Meemaw calls me moon pie, Penny."

"We need to talk, Sheldon. Non-optional social convention." His lips curl into an amused smile; and for the first time in days, Penny finds herself mirroring his smile. "I'm just so, so, _so _glad that you're okay, moon pie."

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**A/N:** Another shamefully short chapter. Sorry guys ): I feel as though the ending was truncated rather abruptly, but it's three in the morning and I really want to get to sleep after getting this chapter out. Amy is a hard character to write in character and not have everyone hate her...yeah, I don't think I've succeeded in making an Amy who is 1) IC, and 2) likeable. D: Uhm, just please don't hate her too much yet? D:

Shenny reunion at last. No matter what has happened in the past, or will happen in the future, those two have each other. Warning: the next chapter will have jarred friendships and ruffled feathers - it's even angstier than this chapter! Thanks guys for the reviews. :) -hug-


	10. Chapter 10: Part II

"Your concern is touching, Penny. I take it that you've heard every word of my exchange with Amy?"

"I didn't mean to, but yeah – sorry. I just can't believe what she said to you! She's supposed to care for you and love you, I get that, but does she have to sound so clinical about it?" Penny growls, missing a faint look of bemusement flash across Sheldon's brows.

He pulls himself up to a rough seated position,"I agree that some aspects of her speech were mildly rude, such as her uncalled-for sarcasm; but she grasps social conventions and relationship paradigms much better than I do, and thus I am forced to uphold her words over mine."

She gasps loudly, earning a Sheldon-patented look of condescension and a raise of his eyebrows, but she doesn't care about his reaction for the moment. Her veins feel as if there's a firework cruising down them and alight with raw _anger_, and she has to chant silently in her mind to 'can it' lest she explodes and whooshes out of the hospital and into Amy Farrah Fowler's skin in demented rage.

"You've been listening to Amy for the past year or something because you think she knows better than you what should happen in a relationship?"

She struggles to keep her voice down, but from the look in his eyes, she's pretty sure she's startled him badly enough to activate the deer-in-the-headlights mode he's wont to launch into whenever he's frightened. A tsunami of memories and their corresponding emotions collide into her, knocking her back into her chair and leaving her gasping for air – she remembers, now, how docile Sheldon has been lately, how his eyes have been curtailed of their burning intensity, leaving him limp like a tamed animal, the shadows of his once-wild nature haunting the spaces between his fingers and the emptiness behind his ears.

"To put it frankly, yes." Then she snaps completely.

"Sheldon, she's _trained_ you to listen to her! She's changed you from the stubborn, annoying wackadoodle I love and turned you into what she thinks a good boyfriend should be like!" She silently begs him to see it for himself, before the noose tightens any further and snags him away from her forever.

"Penny, you're being overly dramatic. Given your propensity for superfluous exaggeration and dramatic flair, it should not be surprising. I don't approve of your claims towards the actions of Amy Farrah Fowler, who has proven to be a remarkably convenient romantic partner despite my initial misgivings about our relationship." His voice lacks its usual haughtiness; this upsets her more than it should.

"For such a smart guy, why can't you see that there's something seriously wrong with your relationship if she gets to call all the shots and you follow like the children running after the piper? What happened to your 'working knowledge of the universe'?"

"Penny," she has never been so relieved to hear her name being spoken in such a condescending manner, "Amy has made it clear that my lack of proper insight into social mores has been blinding me, coupled with my arrogance and refusal to fathom the idea that I may not know everything there is to know about the world around us. Logically, it makes perfect sense to delegate the responsibility of upholding social conventions and expectations to Amy, who is more informed than I am, and ever will be about it."

Everything clicks into place. Sheldon's change into what Amy deems as 'boyfriend material'; his reluctance to contradict Amy; his eventual transition into a watered down, tamed caricature of himself. Suddenly, all of her anger evaporates, leaving her with the oddest urge to throw her arms around the physicist and sob into his clavicle.

"Why did you ask her to leave?"

"I was uncomfortable with her assumption that I was trying to commit suicide, which is a ridiculous notion and one she should have known better. I do not fancy death before attaining my Nobel prize, at the very least; ideally, I would like to infuse my skull with adamantium to prolong my lifespan. Surely anyone would have realized that I would never consider suicide."

To his credit, Sheldon barely twitches after that comment. Ignoring the growing amount of emotions piling up behind a mental dam, Penny decides to listen to her urges and wrap her arms around his neck and press her lips to his cheeks, his personal bubble be damned. Surprisingly, he doesn't wiggle his way out of her embrace; instead, he relaxes into her arms with a contented, soft sigh.

"You stupid wackadoodle, you have _no _idea how worried I was…I was so angry at myself for not realizing earlier that something was wrong with you – I kept thinking back to the last time we talked, and I wanted to die for not asking you what was wrong when I clearly knew that you were lying about your shirt." She breaks off with a soft cry, burying her head into the crook of his neck; she notices that it feels strangely comfortable.

"There, there – there's no reason to cry, especially on my person, Penny. Were I back in my domicile, I would offer you a hot beverage; but seeing as that isn't possible right now, would you like me to sing you Soft Kitty?" Large hands pat her back awkwardly, but she doesn't let go.

"You're the one who's hurt, I should be singing it to you, Sheldon. I – I just can't believe that I was such a coward that day; we've been drifting away for a while now, and I nearly lost you. I'm so sorry that I wasn't a better friend, and that I didn't try to stay friends with you after I broke up with Leonard – I just keep thinking back, asking myself, what if I was there for you – what if, maybe then, all _this_ wouldn't have happened and you could be enjoying Vintage Game Night instead of being stuck in a hospital?"

"You could have never known the reason behind my distress, Penny. It is one that I have kept hidden for many years now. Furthermore, when we examine the chain of causality that has caused me to act…rashly and end up in a hospital bed, goodness knows how many germs must be crawling around the place; I can conclude safely that it was entirely unrelated to the topic that has caused my distress that I'd endured that night with you."

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**A/N:** Not the next chapter. This the second part of chapter 10 that I neglected to finish last night. The ending is abrupt (like always) - whoops. I think Sheldon may be a lot more OOC than I thought, reading over it again. His subdued demeanour has a reason for it, I swear! Once again, thanks everyone for reviewing :) Thiiiiiis close to breaking 20k words! D:


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